Chapter 49: Chapter 49

"Miss Orlando," he asked, "do you know anything about that demon from last night? The one with black hair, black eyes, and that strange sword?"

He had to change the subject.

"I saw a mysterious figure in a black robe break into the apartment and kill the original owner of the Cursed Item."

She gazed down at her crystal ball. "That black robe isn't ordinary. I couldn't determine his identity."

Evegarden, standing beside her, nodded in agreement.

"So, you're saying that while the battle was raging at the Church last night, this black-robed man killed Black Velte—the one the police just identified—and then drew a demon that ended up helping us?"

Hutt asked in astonishment.

"He wasn't necessarily trying to help us. He might have just been testing that piece of paper. The demon appearing there was likely a coincidence."

Hutt nodded. "That makes sense. He's a murderer who killed someone in the rain and failed to report it to any church. When we get back, should we list him as wanted for the time being? The Cursed Item is still in his possession, after all."

"The man in the black robe appeared here and took the Cursed Item. Meanwhile, a Scribe from our church ran into the Frost Attendant less than a hundred meters away. Don't you think that's a bit too coincidental?"

"But we've already confirmed it through multiple methods, including a contract. The man in the black robe isn't Mr. Williams. He's innocent."

"It must just be a coincidence," Hutt said with a sigh.

Orlando narrowed her eyes and nodded, which made Evegarden laugh. "What's this? Doubting one of your own church's Scribes? I heard he accomplished something quite remarkable last night. How long has it been since we've heard anything involving divinity?"

"Divination is always a murky business," Orlando retorted. "Especially when it involves a Heretical God, a Cursed Item, and the attention of the Great Sage. It's only natural that I question the results."

"People from Nolan never doubt their friends," Evegarden said coolly. "It seems you still haven't quite adjusted to our city, Miss Orlando."

Orlando clutched her crystal ball tightly, turning on her heel without a word to inspect the goddess's sacred emblem. Hutt was left standing there, looking rather awkward.

"Miss Evegarden," Hutt began, "did you see something else?"

The woman nodded gracefully, her gaze piercing the curtain of rain toward the horizon. "I did," she said softly. "I also saw The Unknown Path."

Despite being in perfect health, Jenkins was forced to remain in the hospital. Given his role as a healer and the number of people wounded in last night's battle, he quickly transitioned from patient to physician.

He also saw Papa Oliver there. After Jenkins had left the previous morning, it had taken the old man the entire morning to recover before he rushed off to help at the Church. That was why Jenkins hadn't found him at the antique shop later that night.

He looked perfectly healthy; he'd already dealt with the bitter cold that had given Jenkins so much trouble the day before.

"Papa Oliver is pretty strong, too!"

Jenkins mused. He was in a secret recovery center run by the Church, one used only in the event of a diocesan catastrophe. It was located on the outskirts of the city, and Papa Oliver was currently resting on the bed before him.

In the moments between treatments, he took stock of the previous day's events. He was surprised to realize that even after dealing with the Cursed Item behind the octopus, capturing the Frost Attendant, and destroying the essence of a Heretical God, his greatest rewards were merely advancing to Level 1 and evolving one of his abilities.

Papa Oliver was the one who had told him about "ability evolution." Some abilities could be altered through advanced rituals, while the truly lucky might see their [Simple Boxing] evolve into [Sun Fist] just from watching the sunrise.

By using the floral essence from the Frost Attendant, Jenkins had only managed to upgrade a basic white ability into a red one with a freezing effect. He wouldn't call that particularly lucky.

The largely destroyed church had to be rebuilt, the investigation into the Club of Light Chasers had to be reopened, and arrangements had to be made for the reinforcements from the royal capital. But none of that concerned Jenkins; he was just a low-ranking, semi-clerical employee.

"What are you thinking about?"

Papa Oliver grumbled, "You've whittled that apple down to nothing but the core!"

Jenkins glanced at the paring knife and the apple core in his hand and gave an embarrassed chuckle. Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on nοvelfire.net

This recovery center was located on the outskirts of Nolan City, and most of those injured in the battle had been brought here. Jenkins was just using his free time to check on Papa Oliver, who wasn't seriously injured anyway. Several surgeries were still underway, and he would be needed later to help with the healing.

Jenkins had also met other Scribes here with healing-type abilities, but theirs weren't as "pure" as his. Theirs felt more like secondary effects of their primary powers.

One, for instance, was a young man with dark circles under his eyes who looked chronically sleep-deprived. He had an ability called [Vampiric Touch], but it was less about healing and more geared toward blood manipulation and causing harm. When Jenkins saw him, he was smoking some kind of tobacco that gave off a yellow smoke before a nurse rushed over and chased him out.

"No smoking in the hospital!"

"I'm warning you, Jenkins, these apples are very expensive. They're a get-well gift from Miss Mikhail. If you dare peel another one down to the core, I'm docking your pay!"

Jenkins finally snapped out of his reverie, and the apple in his hand was spared.

On the bedside table lay a copy of that day's Nolan Daily. Tucked away in a small corner was a new wanted poster. The description of the suspect was vague, stating only that a black-robed individual had broken into apartment 431B on Queen's Avenue during a rainstorm and shot an innocent art student named Black Velte. The police were offering a twenty-pound reward.

"The police are after a man in a black robe," Jenkins thought. "What does that have to do with me, Jenkins Williams?"

It seemed the previous day had exhausted all his bad luck. There was no evidence of his movements after he'd rashly left the Church of Ocean and Exploration. Besides, no one believed a Level 0 Enchanter could stir up much trouble. The only loose end was the few missing bullets from Papa Oliver's pistol. But when the old man, lying in his sickbed, had taken the gun back, he had merely smiled, asked no questions, and told no one.

The heavy rain had washed away most of the evidence. That, at least, was a silver lining.

The dreary rain continued without pause. Jenkins found time to visit the Church of Ocean and Exploration to express his thanks. It was only then that he learned the old man who had brought him hot water was the bishop of the diocese. After Jenkins had lost consciousness, the church members had placed him in a bath of hot water to keep his body temperature from dropping, going so far as to use the church's sacred baptistry. Every drop of water in it had been blessed by the Lord of the Storm, the god of the oceans. If not for their quick thinking, Jenkins would have frozen to death.